


Don't Think

by SpookyMiscreant



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Pre-Slash, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 04:31:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20901686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpookyMiscreant/pseuds/SpookyMiscreant
Summary: A tumblr prompt for bed sharing + Enemies to lovers with an added hurt!Stiles





	Don't Think

**Author's Note:**

> an anon requested bed sharing and enemies to lovers! I'm still taking two trope prompt requests so hop on over to Tumblr (@lacrossepapi) if you have a request!

Stiles was usually better than this. Smarter. He should've seen the signs of a darach long before the thing showed up on their figurative doorstep. He’d been too caught up in college work and wondering why Peter was suddenly showing his face again to notice all the missing people. What a mistake that had been. 

This really wasn't the time for Stiles to be cursing himself and his perfect hindsight since he was currently running full speed through the preserve. He wasn't going to admit his life depended on it, that would be admitting he was going to die soon. His legs were failing more and more with each step, he had no idea where he was or where he was heading, and he could feel the dark taint of the darach's magic caressing the back of his neck. He pushed all thoughts of life and death out of his head and just  _ ran _ . 

Until he wasn't running anymore, he was falling. He was crashing down into a pitfall trap at a dangerously fast speed. He had a moment to remember his training on how to safely land and send a prayer to anyone listening that there wasn't spikes or sharp things at the bottom, before he grunted with pain as he smacked the ground and rolled. He felt his wrist wrench too far to the right, and his knee crack the ground beneath him as he tumbled through the dimly lit room. That was sure as shit going to hurt like hell when the adrenaline faded. 

Stiles coughed roughly past the dust he’d kicked up. Where on Earth could he even be at? 

“I guess this means I’ll have to share.” 

Peter Hale’s, faux amused voice was the last thing Stiles expected to hear down in the darkness of what seemed to be a crypt of some kind. Stiles stood gingerly and took in his surroundings as he tried to catch him breath. He had to take a minute to come to grips with the fact that he was trapped in a crypt with Peter. His life was a regular dramatic horror movie, that had to be why these things only happened to him. If it was Scott trapped he would be in a fully furnished basement with a butler, but no, Stiles was the one with the bad luck of always being a target. 

He took a careful step towards the direction of Peter’s voice, “Creeperwolf? Why the hell are you here?” 

Blue eyes flared to life from a dark corner of the room as Peter chuckled, “Scared of being alone with the feral alpha, Little Rabbit Heart?” 

“You wish I was scared of you.” Stiles bared his teeth at the slowly appearing silhouette.

Stiles’ eyes were beginning to adjust and he could make out Peter’s disheveled appearance and the lumpy bed the man was currently sitting on, one leg arched to support the weight of his outstretched arm. 

“You should be scared of me. Aren’t I just another bad guy trying to kill your little friend?” Peter sneered, obviously offended by the generic label. 

Stiles finally reached the edge of the mattress and bent to ease himself down onto the edge, hissing quietly at the pain in his shoulder, hip, wrist, and well really his everywhere. 

He gritted his teeth through the pain and hissed, “You aren’t here to kill Scott.” 

Peter hummed, whether it was a sound of contemplation or agreement Stiles wasn’t sure. 

“What am I here for, Stiles?” 

“Apparently exactly what I’m here for too. Sacrifice for a stupid Darach that doesn’t even realize our Nemeton will chew them up and spit them out once they charge it up.” Stiles frowned, unhappy with the certainty he felt when saying that statement. 

He was most likely not going to make it out of this one alive. He would panic about that later. 

“Why us? And where’s the third?” Peter’s head was canted slightly as if trying to read Stiles’ erratic heartbeat more clearly. 

“Stop looking at me like an idiotic puppy.” Stiles swung with his bad hand too quick to realize his mistake until the back of his hand and subsequently his probably broken wrist smacked into Peter’s head. 

He yelped in pain, quickly pulling his wrist protectively back to his chest, “You could’ve stopped me, dick.” 

“How are you supposed to learn if I stop you from making mistakes?” Peter was smirking at him now.

“Fuck you. Anyways, unless you’re a virgin too, my guess is we are supposed to be warriors.” Stiles bit out, scooting himself back to rest against the wall beside Peter. 

“Tut-Tut, Rabbit. We-” his finger motioned between them, “are not warriors. I am a warrior, and your inappropriate assumption is correct. I am indeed not a virgin.” 

Stiles hurt his shoulder against the wall as he spluttered at the accusation.

“Inappropriate! I have nev-” 

“Hush now, darling. I am right beside you, there is no need to yell.” 

Stiles stared at him open mouthed, “That is so much more inappropriate than me assuming a grown man wasn’t a virgin!” 

“Volume please Stiles. The echos are not kind to my ears. And is it inappropriate to call someone you find dear and precious, darling? I think not.” Peter’s chin lift indignantly at the returned accusation. 

“Oh, eat me. You don’t think I’m either of those things.” 

“Maybe so, but I do think we are the Guardians. Don’t look at me like that. I was the guardian of my pack as sure as you are of yours. You know that while Scott is the alpha and protector, you are the one that takes care of the pack.” Peter huffed, crossing his arms. 

It made sense in hindsight, but Stiles was not going to agree with Peter Hale. 

-

Hours passed and Stiles was surprised to find himself shoulder to shoulder with Peter instead of down the length of the mattress where he had started. Peter was charming as usual, but something about his charm seemed unintentional down there in the dark. He seemed more real, less bolstering and mysterious. Was this the man Peter really was? Stiles could like this man. Could love this man if he tried. He’d always thought Peter was sex on legs, but in the dangerous, ‘Might Murder Me’ way. Talking to the man about anything he could discuss to take their minds off their current location had shifted something fundamental in the way Stiles viewed Peter. 

Peter was funny. Now that had been a revelation Stiles was not prepared for. He never thought he would be laying shoulder to shoulder with Peter Hale laughing. When had they laid down? 

Stiles’ body ached with every movement, which meant Peter had to have shifted them while draining his pain. An oddly caring act. 

“Hey Peter?” 

The werewolf turned his head to face Stiles as he hummed inquisitively. 

“Why did you come back to Beacon Hills? You were free.” Stiles didn’t think he could ever leave Beacon Hills behind, leave the humans defenseless, but if he did; he would never come back. 

Peter’s eyes looked sad as he released a pained breath, “Beacon Hills was my home long before it was my family’s and my grave. It will be my home long after I am buried again. I cannot truly leave it.” 

And Stiles? He could understand that too. Could understand the way the preserve became apart of their soul, the way the foggy air became the only air they could ever breathe. He rolled on his good shoulder and hip to rest his head on Peter’s sternum, finding comfort in someone so strong and so similar to himself.

“I think I would like it if you stayed this time.” Stiles’ words were muffled into Peter’s chest. 

“Hush now and sleep, Little Rabbit Heart. You’re not thinking straight. I’m the bad guy remember?” 

Stiles nodded, that did make sense. He knew Peter was bad. He wasn’t supposed to trust Peter, so why did he want to kiss the frown away from his beautiful mouth? 

“I don’t think you’re so bad anymore. I like you.” were the last words Stiles was able to mumble as he fell asleep in Peter’s arms. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it!


End file.
